


Follow You into the Dark

by viiperfang



Series: Adventures of the Freak Fam [7]
Category: Freak Fam - Fandom
Genre: << only happens in a nightmare tho dw dw, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fever Dreams, Gore, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Once again I'm not tagging them bc I don't want this in their tags, Pneumonia, Ryan the Dad guy Haywood, Sick Character, Sickfic, The Fakes show up, This might get an epilogue, Vomiting, heavily Shirk/Vinny centric, i feel like i really need to tag more but idk what, people actually talking about their feelings and fears? wrow!, this is like the longest thing i've written that's not meant to be chaptered, will i ever make up my own title and not use a song? no probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 21:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiperfang/pseuds/viiperfang
Summary: Late night conversations tend to bring secrets usually hidden away to light. But what happens when one of those secrets is actually someone being sick? The night before a huge heist, despite claiming he's perfectly fine for tomorrow, Shirk becomes ill.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> man idk what to even fucking say here, like damn. the only people who probably are reading this have heard me scream about it so much already.
> 
> this was originally started back in February! That's so long ago! Like, geez. Specifically, only the first part was written then, and it was just going to end on a cliffhanger but then I had the brilliant idea to finish this...
> 
> and here we are, 15K words later. (Don't be fooled by the word count, i think it counts the breaks as words. The official word count is 15059 words.)
> 
> this has been split up into chapters to make it easier to read, but realize this is all one cohesive work, so it was a little hard figuring out where to split things. so if the cuts seem a little strange, that's why. also i apologize for, like, making this super vinny/shirk oriented, but that was the original plan so i kept it.
> 
> you wanna know how this was originally going to go, before i scrapped that idea and wrote this monstrosity instead? he was going to get super sick in the middle of the heist while alone and hiding from the cops, only for vinny to find him. I think this idea is better. :3

Warm steam curled across his face as he sat tucked into the corner of the couch, long fingers curled around the mug, absorbing the heat. A twin mug sat perched, unattended, upon a coaster on the coffee table. Shirk's hair was down, scarlet locks pooling against the back of the couch in waves. The TV was on, but muted, whatever stupid talk show host was on saying something with too many hand gestures and looks at the camera.

Shirk's fingers tapped idly against the mug as he stared just to the right of the TV, lost somewhere in his thoughts. His green eyes were half-lidded, mouth turned down in a slight frown, but he looked calm. A knock at his door drew him away from his thoughts and Shirk stood up, placing his mug on the table as he did so. He walked to the door and opened it, not seeming surprised at the person standing before him. He smiled at Vinny, who gave one back, and gestured for them to come in.

Shirk led them to the couch, kicking the door softly shut behind him. "I take it this isn't just a visit for fun?" He asked, humor coloring his voice as he once again curled into the corner of the couch, mug back in his hand. 

"I wanted- I needed to see you before tomorrow," Vinny told him, leaning so his side was tucked into Shirk's. Shirk shifted forward and snagged the other mug off the table, pressing it into Vinny's hand. They took a sip of the still-steaming liquid and raised an eyebrow. "Tea? Took you as more of a coffee guy," they joked, and Shirk smiled.

"Naah, quiet nights like this are tea nights. Need to actually try to sleep at some point, for tomorrow." He shrugged, sipping at his own tea. The topic of Vinny's visit hung heavy in the room, choking with the weight, but neither wanted to cut the delicate calm that had settled over them.

It was Vinny who broke the silence, fidgeting restlessly which caused Shirk to turn his face towards them. "Y'know, you're the only one of us going into the thick of it tomorrow."

Another shrug met Vinny's words. "Ace is going," he stated, matter-of-factly, and Vinny frowned at him. 

"Yeah, but they're part of the distraction. You're the one who's going to be actually entering the bank, and you're the one who's staying behind–" they cut themself off, hunching their shoulders in.  _ You're the one who's staying behind to fend off the cops _ .

"I volunteered for it for a reason–"

"You can't keep doing this," Vinny grumbled, sending a weak glare at Shirk. 

"Can't keep doing what?"

"Putting yourself on the line like this! You have people who care for you!"

"I know," was all Shirk said, genuine regret in his voice.

"No, I don't think you do! Because you  _ keep _ doing it!" Vinny turned fully towards Shirk, features hard. "You keep putting yourself into these situations. Last time you were gone for  _ three weeks _ –" Vinny had to swallow harshly, and Shirk frowned. "–and then went on a four-day rampage a month later."

"I'm sorry," he apologized earnestly, bumping his shoulder against Vinny's. "Hey, tell you what," Shirk cracked a smile, unable to keep completely serious despite the mood.

"What?"

"If I survive, I'll  _ try _ to not make such crazy decisions."

"Shirk!" Vinny yelled, putting their cup down to cross their arms and giving the red-haired man a dirty look. 

Shirk laughed, unable to keep a smile from his face. "Hhh, I'm sorry," he giggled when Vinny smacked him, trying to catch his breath. "You're taking this so seriously. I'm going to be fine."

Vinny snorted and turned away to pick their mug up, sipping it lightly. Shirk's smile dropped, eyelids lowering in thought once again. He almost missed Vinny's next words. "How do you do it?"

"Hmm?" Shirk hummed distractedly, eyes sliding to Vinny again.

"How are you never scared before heists? You're always so calm and collected and ready to go." Vinny didn't look at him, but did shift closer so they were back against Shirk.

Shirk let out a bitter laugh, fingers curled tighter around his mug of tea. "I'm fucking terrified, all the time," he tells them, seriously, all traces of mirth gone.

"Really?"   
  


"Yeah. Scared something will go wrong, someone will get hurt. Frightened someone will get arrested or captured. Terrified I'll get shot and die, or worse, one of you will. And I'll be too far away to do anything."

It was Vinny's turn to frown at Shirk's words, eyebrows twitching together in concern. "Shirk–"

Shirk sighed, placing his mug down a little harder than he meant to, it hitting the table with a  _ clack _ . "You all wanted me to be more open, so here I am," he stated, placing his hands on his knees. He stood up, rolling his shoulder with a loud  _ pop _ . "I'm scared for all of you, all the time. I can deal with myself getting hurt, for the most part. I can deal with torture and pain. But the thought of losing you, any of you, truly and genuinely scares the shit out of me."

Vinny was speechless. Shirk was calmly, not in the throws of panic or in pain, talking about himself. Maybe it was the fear of what was to come, maybe it was the time of night, or the already somber atmosphere in the room, but Vinny was shocked that Shirk was being so open. "...Are you drunk?" Vinny had to ask, wisps of doubt floating in their head.

Shirk shrugged like what he was telling them was no big deal and gave Vinny a wry smile. "God, I wish," he scoffed quietly, glancing at the kitchen. "Tryin' not to drink, I guess. Disaster doesn't like some of my methods of 'dealing with past demons' or whatever and asked me to try and cut back on drinking."

"Good on her."

"Mmm." Shirk had turned and leaned against the wall, eyes sliding shut when he hummed in agreement. "Don't wanna make her unhappy with me."

"Well at least you–" For all of Vinny's attempts to stop it, a huge yawn split their sentence, an indicator of the time, "–'re trying."

Shirk laughed, another smile gracing his features even with his eyes closed. He blinked them open and pushed off the wall, asking, "ya tired?" with a snort.

"S-sh–" Another yawn forced its way out, and made Vinny's eyes water. "Shut it."

Shirk shook his head fondly with another good-natured snort and walked over to Vinny and snatched their mug from their hands before he collected his own. Shirk finished his tea in one gulp before taking the mugs to the kitchen and placing them in the sink. "You're free to stay," he offered, rinsing them out.

"Really?" Vinny asked, coming up behind Shirk. "I'd've thought you'd want to be alone tonight."

"Nah," Shirk told them, stilling at the hands curling around his middle and face pressing into his back. "Sometimes it's nice to not sleep alone."

"Hmm, I'll take you up on that offer," Vinny hummed into Shirk's back, feeling the vibrations of the man's laughter.

"You know where the room is, I'll be in soon. Feel free to borrow any of my clothes." Vinny nodded against his back and pushed themself away, padding tiredly towards the bedroom. Shirk watched them go, smile dropping back to a frown as his earlier anxieties slammed into him with a renewed vengeance, setting him on edge.

Ignoring the mugs in the sink, he walked back into the living room and turned the muted TV off, becoming enveloped in darkness. The hand shaking had started up again, something that had been happening more frequently since he had been captured, and he frowned down at them through the darkness. Turning on his heel, he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and clean up before bed.

-

Vinny had been trying and failing for the past hour to stay awake waiting for Shirk, dozing in and out of sleep. At one point they thought that they had heard something break on the ground, but when they called out for Shirk, they heard the shower running and decided it was probably a dream and settled back down. Now, awoken again by the mattress sinking down as a heavy weight sat down, they blinked up at Shirk who had his hair down, still slightly damp. "'S never goin' to dry like that," Vinny mumbled, and blinked sleepily up at him.

Shirk gave them a subdued smile and patted their head, before sliding under the covers next to them. "Maybe," he quietly agreed, voice gravelly.

Vinny assumed it was tiredness causing Shirk's voice to fall flat, with the way he had been running around for the past week prepping for the heist, and his usual lack of sleep. Though he had been doing slightly better with sleeping before he had gotten kidnapped, Shirk had gone right back into his old routine when he came back, sleeping very little. Vinny looked into Shirk's eyes and frowned when they realized his eyes were red-rimmed in a telltale sign of–

"Were you crying?" Vinny asked, worry etching their voice. 

Shirk dropped a heavy arm over Vinny's waist and hummed, "maybe." He pulled the other closer so they were pressed into his chest.

"Why, what's wrong?" Vinny asked, clinging to Shirk's shirt.

"Does it matter?" Shirk's chest rumbled as he spoke.

"Yes, it does. Are you okay?"

"Just drop it–" Shirk's voice hitched at the end and Vinny pulled back, worry gnawing at their chest. They expected to see… well not this. Shirk sat up as well, arm covering his mouth as hacking coughs wracked through his body.

Vinny silently slipped from the bed and went to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before going back to the bedroom. When they entered the found Shirk no longer coughing, but holding his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples.

"Are you okay?" Vinny asked again for an entirely different reason, and Shirk groaned, taking the offered water gratefully.

"Yeah," he told them, downing half the glass in one go before placing it on the bedside table. He opened his arm and Vinny climbed back in bed, settling into Shirk's side as they both lied down. They put their head on his chest, his arm curled around their shoulders.

"Will you be okay for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry."

"I always worry."

Shirk laughed, coming out a little strained and breathless, but he rubbed Vinny's shoulder and closed his eyes. A moment of silence passed, both of them breathing quietly before Shirk quietly stated, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Vinny asked, thinking that there was nothing for him to be sorry about.

Shirk didn't answer, instead saying, quieter still, "I love you."

Vinny smiled, the words echoing in their head pleasantly. "I love you too," they whispered, tilting their head to look at Shirk. The man's face had smoothed out in the peacefulness only visible when he was asleep, making him look younger and happier. "Goodnight," Vinny told him, moving to kiss Shirk's forehead before curling back up and quickly falling asleep themself.

\--

_ He couldn't move. It was like he was glued to where he stood, frozen to the spot. Vinny was across the room, straightening up whatever mess had been strewn across the floor, but Shirk's instincts screamed that something was wrong. He wanted to call Vinny over, wanted to make his own way over, but he couldn't.  _

_ Then, the door slammed open, startling Vinny who jumped, only for them to relax as Shirk watched himself walk in, mask on his head. But if that was him, then how was he…? His consciousness was thrown into the body, but it was like he was watching from inside his own head because the movements and words weren't his own. Vinny stepped forward for a hug only to freeze as Shirk pointed a gun at their head. They stuttered something and Shirk laughed, spitting something back, causing Vinny to shudder.  _

_ He took a step forward while Shirk yelled in his own head. "Run! Move! Get away!" Vinny took a step back, before turning on their heel and dashing away. The room morphed into a maze, and Shirk gleefully trotted after them, gun at the ready. "Stop, stop,  _ ** _stop!_ ** _ " Shirk shouted, trying to fight against whatever this was, but he was imprisoned in his own mind. He cornered Vinny and pulled the gun on them again, and Shirk can only scream as bullet after bullet tear through their flesh, painting the wall behind them red– _

Shirk lurched forward, shout catching in his throat. His arm was outstretched to the dark room, and it took him a moment to gather his bearings. He looked around, heart slamming against his ribs, and he recognized his bedroom, Vinny curled up beside him. Shirk brought a shaking hand up to card through his sweaty hair, and sweat cooled against his skin. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down but the moment he closed his eyes, his mind replayed the horrible dream. 

His stomach flipped and churned, and Shirk swallowed harshly before jolting in panic and scrambling from the bed. In his haste he kicked Vinny in the thigh sharply, waking them, who opened their eyes to catch him hightailing it from the room as he rushed to the bathroom. Shirk collapsed in front of the toilet only for his stomach to convulse, causing him to wretch. Vomit spilled from his mouth, tears springing to his eyes as he coughed, only to puke again. Hands gathered up his hair and rubbed soothingly at his back as he threw up, and Vinny settled at his side. After a few minutes—and a few minutes more of dry-heaving—Shirk collapsed bonelessly against Vinny, his head throbbing in time with his pulse. " _ Fuck _ ," he whispered hoarsely. 

"Hey pal, you okay?" Vinny asked, rubbing their hand on his arm. Shirk didn't answer, just sunk lower until his head was against Vinny's lap. They pressed a hand against his clammy forehead and frowned, "you're burning up. I'm calling Dee, there's  _ no _ way you're fit for the heist tomorrow." Shirk wanted to argue, but it was taking all his breath to just  _ breathe _ and not fall into a coughing fit, which he knew would only end up with him throwing up again. "Hey, buddy, can you get up?"

Shirk shook his head, which was a bad idea because the movement sent the room spinning and tilting violently, and Shirk has to choke down more nausea. "Wanna stay in here," he coughed, voice raspy.  _ In case I puke again _ , is left unsaid but Vinny understands.

"Let's put your hair up, then," they suggested, and Shirk barely nodded against their legs, before forcing himself to sit up. The world tilted on its Axis again and Shirk pressed his hands against his eyes as he felt Vinny pull his hair back into a loose ponytail. "I'm gonna grab my phone, can you wait here for a moment?"

Shirk grunted an answer, and he heard them stand and rush from the room. The moment they were gone his nightmare flashed before his eyes, and his heartbeat picked up. His mouth filled with saliva and he gagged, throwing himself forward to spew his guts into the toilet again. He was aware he was shaking, but from what? He had no idea. Tears poured endlessly from his eyes but he didn't have the strength to wipe them away, instead he flushed and collapsed against the tub, pressing his sweaty cheek into the cool plastic. 

He must've dozed off because the next thing he's aware of is Vinny petting his head. His lip quivered and Shirk felt the need to say something. "'M fine," he tried lamely, voice coming out weak and sending him into a violent coughing fit. 

"Yeah, yeah. You were vomiting for fun, I understand. It's a great pastime," they agreed sarcastically, and Shirk can't help but snort. He stared at Vinny with unfocused eyes and forced a smile, which they returned. "C'mon, let's get you back to bed. Sassy said she'd be over in a bit."

"Mn–No," he wheezed, clutching Vinny's arm as he staggered upwards. "No, she can't–'M sick–She'll get–" he didn't finish any of the sentences he tried to say, but he hoped the point got across.  _ She'll get sick, I don't want her to _ .

"Then you tell her that. You know she's just as stubborn as you when she decides something."

Shirk shook his head. "I don't want–I don't wanna get he–" to his horror, fresh tears filled his eyes and threatened to spill. He hiccuped as he was led from the room. "I couldn't–"

"Shh, she'll be fine. I'll make sure she doesn't get sick. I'll make her wear a surgical mask or something," Vinny assured him as they sat him onto the bed. "You need anything? Water?" Shirk's face crumpled up and his shoulders were shaking before he could stop it, breaths coming out short and choked. "Oh, buddy, what's wrong?" Vinny intertwined their fingers with his on his lap, and Shirk's dam broke further. 

Shirk ducked his head, tears dripping onto their hands, body wracked with shivers and shoulders shuddering with sobs. "'M scared," he said truthfully, tightening his grip on Vinny's hands. "That I'll–I'll," he coughed, pulling his one hand away to cough into the crook of his elbow. Vinny shifted him until he was laying properly on the bed, and they laid beside him, opening their arms and inviting him forward. 

He pressed his face into their chest and wrapped his arms around them like a lifeline, crying into their shirt. Vinny rubbed small circles into his back, whispering above his head. "You'll get through this. You'll be fine." Shirk sobbed harder, because that  _ wasn't _ what he was scared about, but he couldn't get his thoughts into words through his tears. "You'll pull through this, it's just like, the flu, and it'll run its course, alright big guy?"

"I don't wanna get you sick," Shirk hacked, pulling away from Vinny to cough. "You or Ace o-or Disaster."

"Well, I have my shots so I'll be okay. We'll limit Sassy's exposure so she doesn't get sick and wheel her to Caleb at the slightest sign of a cough, and Ace is a wildcard. Y'know what they say about idiots and catching colds."

Shirk gave a small smile at the last sentence, before pressing his face back into Vinny's chest, hiccuping. "I…" he began, lips quivering again and threatening  _ more _ tears. "No one's ever… I always took care of Alandria when she was sick as kids, but no one ever–I always had to take care of myself."

"No one's ever taken care of you?" Vinny asked, piecing the sentence together. "Well, you have me now, I'll be your personal nurse. I'll answer your every beck, call, and whim."

Shirk's chest tightened and another sob tried to claw its way from his throat. He swallowed it down only for more to replace it. "F-fuck," he hissed, turning onto his back and pressing his palms into his eyes. "I don't–"

"If you say you don't deserve it I'll  _ shoot _ ya, and then you'll have to worry about a bullet wound instead of bein' sick," they told him, and he smiled despite himself. 

"Sor–"

"'N don't apologize, either. Or I'll shoot ya twice."

Shirk's smile got bigger and he let his hands fall, eyes closed. The nightmare flashed. His smile fled. "I had a nightmare," he admitted so quietly he wasn't sure Vinny heard him until they shifted closer. "I-It-I…" His eyes opened to meet Vinny's who was staring down at him patiently. He bit his lip and glanced away, only being able to remember the look of betrayal painted on their face. "I was… I killed you. Well,  _ I _ didn't, it was like I had been trapped in my own mind and unable to speak or control my actions," and he was rambling, spilling everything that came to mind until Vinny just pressed a hand on his cheek. 

"It was a nightmare. You wouldn't hurt me."

Shirk turned away, more tears gathering. Hadn't he cried enough? Apparently not. "Except I have."

Vinny wiped a stray tear away with their thumb, and sighed. "We're not having this conversation. Listen to me…"

And he tried. He really did, but his mind refused to cooperate and he found himself only focused on the thumb that stroked his cheek. His eyes slipped closed of their own accord and he pressed into the touch. His head lolled against the pillow, and the last thing he was aware of was Vinny telling him, "go to sleep, you big cat," before his consciousness slipped away.

\--

"–dden?" He woke up slowly, awareness coming back in bits and pieces. He was aware that he was somehow freezing  _ and _ sweating profusely, every breath rattling in his chest uncomfortably. A sledgehammer in his head pounded at his temples with a vengeance. He didn't open his eyes, and focused on the conversation above his head and the hand petting his hair.

Wisps of a forgotten dream floated through his mind, but he couldn't grasp at them. Something told him he didn't want to.

"Yeah. When we went to bed last night he had a cough but assured me he was fine, then earlier he was pukin' his guts out. He's only gotten worse from there." Vinny's voice was soft, and their hand didn't pause as they spoke, scratching lightly against his scalp like one would pet a cat. "'N here we are. He was mighty worried about getting you sick."

Shirk shifted slightly and the conversation stopped as they waited to see if he would wake up. When he didn't say anything, though he was awake, they went back to speaking. Shirk cracked open an eye, leveling it with Disaster. She was seated at the far end of the room in the plush chair, and true to Vinny's word she had a surgical mask covering her mouth. 

His focus no longer on the words being spoken, he missed a chunk of the conversation before Disaster noticed him staring and smiled. Despite not being able to see her mouth, he saw the way her eyes lit up and crinkled. "Oh, good morning," she greeted him. He just blinked slowly at her, too tired to do much else.

The kind of exhaustion that settled over his bones like a blanket, the kind that only reared its head when one was sick. He must have mumbled something because it caused daggers to rip at his throat. He pushed himself up onto one elbow to cough into his other one, each cough tearing at his lungs and making his head throb. Once the fit was over he swallowed despite the pain and forced himself to sit up, cursing as he struggled to catch his breath.

"–ey, Hey! Don't sit up," Vinny told him, hands helping him up despite their words. "Shit, you good?" Shirk shook his head, and rubbed at his temples to try and relieve some of the pressure built up. "Do you need anything? Water, advil, a bucket?"

"I just need to work through it, I'm fine," Shirk rasped, rubbing his throat. "I'll be fine if I get m–" He was cut off by another rough cough, the force of which caused his eyes to water. 

"Absolutely not," Disaster scolded. She made her way over and stood at the side of the bed.    
  
"Mn–No. You'll get sick," he warned her, trying to scoot away from her only to be stopped by Vinny who held him in place.

"I  _ do _ have the Flu Shot, you know."

"But what if it's not–"

She gestured to the mask across her mouth. "That's what this is for. A second layer of protection." Shirk went to argue further only to be wrecked with another coughing fit. "Can you shut up for like, ten minutes? You shouldn't be speaking." He glared at her weakly as he once again struggled to get his breath back.

He hated this. He was already tired again, goddamn it. "'M fine," he grumbled.

"Yeah, cause you sound fucking  _ peachy _ there, dude," Vinny clicked their tounge as they handed him a glass of water. When had they…? Whatever. "It's just fuckin allergies, right?" They sent a pointed stare at Disaster who raised her hands in surrender. "Last time one of us claimed they were fine while sick that someone almost died."

"Hey! I didn't almost die," she argued back, though a laugh was evident in her voice. "I just, well, ah…" She rubbed her neck sheepishly, chastised. "Well, maybe I almost did, but I didn't!"

The two bickered long enough for Shirk to slip off the bed, fully intending to head to… well, somewhere. He tried to at least, except his hand missed the bedside table as he stood and he tipped to the side. For one dizzying moment he was falling only for Disaster to grab him with a shout and steady him. "You're a fucking idiot! Are you okay?"

He was sinking to the floor as the strength in his legs gave out, unintentionally pulling Disaster down with him. His ass hit the ground and he hung his head between his knees as another bout of nausea crept up on him. Shirk focused on his breathing as something is shoved into his hands, swallowing thickly. He  _ hated _ throwing up, hated the sensation and how it only made him feel worse.

He lurched forward as he gagged into the trash can, nothing coming up, and hands pulled his hair away from his face. He thought maybe that'd be it, that life was cutting him some slack. He thought wrong. He wretched again loudly and buried his head further into the can as the water he had just drank spewed from his lips.  _ Fuck _ he hated throwing up. 

When finally,  _ finally, _ nothing came up, not even bile anymore, he shoved the trash can away from him and heaved in great gulping breaths. He was shaking, so hard that it hurt, his head throbbed worse than earlier, and his throat felt like it was full of shards of glass. His stomach still rolled as the world twisted and danced before his eyes so he closed them. 

Soft fingers brushed away his tears and words murmured in his ear about getting back in bed. He agreed and went to stand, but his heart leaped into his throat and his eyes snapped open as he couldn't do so, breath picking up in panic as he scrambled to get his legs underneath of him. "You're helpless," Disaster sighed scooping him up and placing him onto the bed.

Shirk babbled thanks and apologies and words unknown to his feverish mind, only to be shushed with a loving caress down his cheek. He stopped and leaned into the touch, before his hazy mind shut off suddenly and he passed out.


	2. Part Two

With him sleeping again, Vinny decided Shirk would be okay for a couple of minutes while they and Disaster got something to eat. Ace was currently working with Geoff and some of the other Freak Fam members to make last-minute changes to the heist, and, if not out-right cancel it, at least move the date back. That meant a lot of planning, explaining, and bribing.

Vinny didn't want to be in their shoes, in all honesty. They were glad that Disaster was here, though, instead of helping out… which she probably  _ should _ be doing. Instead she's preparing eggs or something in the kitchen, while Vinny sat with their head in their hands at the kitchen table. They were tired, but it came with the territory of being woken up before the ass-crack of dawn by their boyfriend getting sick. They thought they got only a couple of hours of sleep, if that.

"Sorry about callin' you over here so early," they said, stretching backwards and feeling their back crack. 

"I'm glad you did. It would've been horrible to go through with the heist with him sick and all."

"You're right," they sighed, accepting a kiss as she placed a plate in front of them. She took the seat across from them and the two ate in silence, just relishing in each other's presence. 

Once they finished Vinny brought their plates over to the sink and washed them while Disaster went to check on Shirk. She came back out and shook her head, "he's still sleeping," before she pulled out her phone and frowned at the device. "Mind if it…?" She gestured to the front door and Vinny nodded. 

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." She passed them as they wandered over to the couch and kissed their cheek, before Disaster ducked out the door.

Vinny lightly dozed as Disaster took calls or whatever in the hall, eyes shut and drifting in an out of wakefulness. It had been roughly an hour since the two of them had eaten—there was a lot of things that needed to be done, Vinny thought, so Disaster could take her time with organizing everything—and with Shirk still out for the count, Vinny was taking any moment of shut-eye they could get. 

They sighed and sank lower into the couch—they were so glad that they talked Shirk into getting a more comfortable one because the old one had been  _ shit _ . They were just about to nod off again when a sharp " _ No– _ " that cut off into hacking coughs startled them. Vinny bolted upright and hesitated, almost unsure if they had heard anything. Then there was a  _ thump _ which caused them to jump, and Vinny rushed off to the bedroom. Shirk stumbled from the bedroom, kicking the sheets that were tangled around his legs off. He wasn't looking at Vinny, not yet, his head ducked and turned away, hair a right mess. He was muttering under his breath, a mantra of, "fuck, fuck, fuck," that rasped from his throat. 

Shirk froze when he looked up and saw Vinny reaching for him to steady him as he stumbled again, and his face flushed a deep crimson. He glanced away again and bit his lip as Vinny got close enough that they could wrap their arm around his waist and keep him upright. "You saw that, huh?"

"Only a little bit," Vinny replied, confusion laced in their voice. "Are you okay? Did you fall out of bed or something?"

Instead of answering, Shirk huffed, "I wish you'd stop asking me that," and ignored Vinny's protests of ' _ You're sick, ya fuckin' bastard!' _ He gave the sheet one last feeble kick, before running one hand through his hair to push it back into some semblance of order. It just made it look worse, but it was out of his face for now, which was all that mattered. Vinny went to lead him back into the room but Shirk planted his feet and refused to move, despite their best efforts. Even while sick the man was like a freight-train when he wanted to be. Sending another questioning look over their shoulder, they saw him looking suddenly apprehensive. Still not meeting their eyes, he shook his head and swallowed. "I don't, uh, really wanna, well," he stumbled over his words, trying to think of how to say whatever it was that he wanted to say, but Vinny got the message. 

He doesn't want to go back into the room. Alright, they could work with that. "Living room?" they offered, and to their relief Shirk nodded his head vigorously, allowing himself to be tugged down the short hallway and into the main room, where Vinny lead him to the sofa and forced him to sit down. He glanced around for a moment, mouth drawn in a thin line before something registered to him.

Shirk's eyes widened the smallest amount in what Vinny could only describe as fear, and he looked at them for answers. "Where's Disaster?"

Knowing better than to ask why, though they really wanted to, they gestured to the front door. "Out in the hall making some phone calls, I presume."

Shirk asked, "are you sure?" in the smallest voice Vinny had ever heard from the man.   
  


"Yeah, unless she got beamed up by fuckin' aliens or some shit. Want me to check on her?"

Shirk looked like he was going to say yes, he even opened his mouth, but the man hesitated and slowly shook his head. "No, no, I believe you." Not taking his bullshit, Vinny rolled their eyes.    
  
"Oh well, gonna do it anyway," they told him and opened the door, peeking out and meeting Disaster's eye as she pocketed her cell. "Someone wants you, Sass," they explained to her as she raised her eyebrow. Understanding filled her face and she nodded.    
  
"I'll be right there."

Vinny gave her a thumbs up and ducked back inside. "She said she'll be in soon, pal," they announced as they turned, noticing Shirk just staring at the wall in thought. His lips were drawn in a tight frown, bordering on a grimace, but as Vinny stepped closer his eyes drifted slowly towards them. An expression that was too quick for Vinny to name flickered across his face, but he blinked at his eyes focused on Vinny's. He made a questioning hum, obviously not having heard a word they just said. "I said–Oh speak of the devil."

The door opened and Disaster stepped through, giving Vinny an unamused look at their comment. They gave her a cheeky grin in response. "So, one of the calls I made was to Caleb, you remember him, right?" Vinny nodded, and she continued. "So, he said that if this is the flu  _ I _ should be fine, and Shirk should be fine, he'll just need some rest and a lot of fluids, especially since he's been throwing up. Caleb wants me to call him if the cough gets worse, though. He said it should clear up in a matter of days."

"That's good," Vinny murmured, only to pause as they turned towards Shirk. The man in question had his hands folded tightly together in his lap, shaking so hard that even from a couple of feet away Vinny could see it. His head was down, refusing to look at either of them even as his hands twisted further. His hair acted like a curtain so they couldn't see the look on his face, but whatever was going on didn't settle well with Vinny. 

Disaster was already taking it in stride, however. She looped her hand with Vinny's and made her way over to crouch in front of Shirk, and Vinny followed suit. Shirk, on the other hand, turned his head away from them again, staring at the arm of the couch instead. "Honey, what's wrong?" Disaster asked, placing her free hand over Shirk's hands. Shirk turned his head just enough that they could see his expression and barely looked at them before he curled his lip slightly. 

The way his eyes were pinched, the way his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it ached, the way he refused to look at them for more than a heartbeat told Vinny a lot. That Shirk, for whatever reason, was refusing to talk, whether to save face or to not upset  _ them _ , Vinny didn't know. They gently nudged Disaster over and took her place. Their hand hovered over his knee, and they asked, "Can I touch you?" Shirk didn't answer, but his leg shifted so his knee bumped against Vinny's palm, and that was an answer enough. They put a comforting hand on his leg and gave him a smile. "You don't gotta talk about it, pal, but somethin's clearly bothering you, huh? Was it a nightmare?"

Vinny half expected Shirk to not reply but he gave a single, sharp nod after a lengthy pause and Vinny sighed before standing. Their knees cracked loudly, and despite everything Shirk snorted, causing Vinny to give him a crooked grin. "Anyone want some tea?" Shirk gave another nod, gentler this time, so Vinny turned to Disaster. "Sassafras, you want any?" They offered her their hand and she took it.

"Yeah, I could go for some tea," she agreed. She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet before she made a thoughtful look. "Hey, what kinds do you have?" Shirk shrugged and she playfully pursed her lips. "Guess I gotta go help you make some, hm Vin?" The two of them headed to the kitchen, and while Disaster rifled through the cabinets Vinny kept an eye on Shirk as they boiled water. Disaster grunted, "none of these are good," and handed Vinny a random box before her eyes lit up as she spied a box of hot chocolate mix. "Oh, bingo!"

Vinny just rolled their eyes, not even reading the box before they grabbed two bags of tea out of it. They grabbed three mugs and dropped the teabags into two of them and stepped up behind Disaster, snatching the hot chocolate mix from her hands with a wry grin. "Hey!" she huffed, turning towards them with her hands on her hips. "Rude."

They ripped open a package and dumped the contents into the mug—Disaster adding a whole other package claiming it wouldn't be strong enough with only one—and grabbed the water as it finished boiling. They poured it into each of the mugs and handed one to Disaster before bringing another one to Shirk, who still didn't look at them fully but gave them a small smile. Vinny sat next to Shirk, and Disaster claimed the chair, tucking her legs underneath her. They drank in silence. It wasn't quite tense or strained, but it wasn't an easy, comfortable silence either. There was obviously something unsaid in the air, something no one really wanted to breach, so it was left alone to hover for now. 

Shirk's head nodded forward, and Vinny turned to look as the mug that was held loosely by the handle slipped from his grasp—empty, thankfully—and hit the floor with a quiet  _ clunk _ . Vinny blinked and picked up the mug, only for Shirk to jerk his head back and rub at his eyes. He blinked tiredly and tried to keep his eyes open to Vinny's endless amusement, but his head lolled to to side and his eyes slid closed again.    
  
Vinny raised their eyebrows and shared a glance with Disaster who was trying and failing to not laugh. "Think it's bedtime?" she mused, as Shirk tipped further to the side, leaning heavily onto Vinny's shoulder. Vinny laughed and nodded, before shaking Shirk's shoulder gently.

He groaned and didn't open his eyes. Vinny grinned harder. "C'mon, buddy, let's get you to bed."

"Don' wanna," Shirk slurred, voice shot and raspy. "'m havin ni…" his voice trailed off as he sunk lower, and Vinny shook their head.

"C'mon, I'll lay with you, K?"

Despite his weak efforts at arguing, Shirk allowed himself to be pulled off the couch and into the bedroom with no problems. He collapsed onto the bed face-first and shifted enough that he could cough into his arm before he sighed and pressed his face into the pillow. He patted the bed next to him with sluggish movements and Vinny got the hint. They paused and looked at Disaster who was leaning in the doorway, a smirk planted on her lips, and she rolled her eyes and gestured for them to get into bed. "What about you?"

"I better go help Ace clean things up, hmm? Left them alone long enough. They're probably changing the entire plan along with changing the date, or causing a ruckus somewhere. Plus some of my contacts are demanding to speak with me, so," she shrugged, smiling, "better get going. I'll be back in a while with Ace, 'kay?"

"Thank you, Sassy," Vinny smiled back. "For, y'know. I love you."

"Love you too. And I love you, Shirk, even if you're kinda stupid sometimes." Shirk just mumbled something and gave a little cough, barely raising one hand in a wave. Disaster made her way over and kissed the top of his head and he smiled slightly and mumbled something else. "I love you, you big bonehead." She then stepped over to Vinny and kissed them before ruffling their hair much to their chagrin. "I'll see you!"

Vinny huffed and mockingly scowled at her before they said their goodbyes. Disaster shut the bedroom door as she left, and Vinny clambered into bed. Shirk rolled closer and burrowed into their chest, so Vinny just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. Soon, they stopped moving and frowned as they pressed their hand flat against his back. They could feel each breath rattle around like a pebble in a dryer, and if they listened carefully they could hear Shirk wheezing with every inhale. Every couple of movements he gave a small, aborted, closed-mouthed cough, and Vinny resisted the urge to wake him. 

It was probably nothing to worry about, and it would clear as the illness worked its course. They pressed their chin on the top of Shirk's head and let their own eyes slide shut. A couple of moments of sleep wouldn't hurt anybody. Right?

Right.

\--

He woke up to a cool hand pressed against his forehead, and a hushed voice above him. He couldn't make out the words being said, but Shirk could hear the quiet panic laced in their voice. Opening his eyes was an effort, and he only got them open a crack before he was too exhausted to do anything else. He peered through his eyelashes at Vinny who was talking into the phone, and he let his eyes close again and nuzzled into the hand. 

He fell back asleep. 

\--

He woke up to being sat up and something being placed into his mouth, so he groaned and reflexively tried to spit it out. "Shh," Vinny soothed. "It's just a thermometer. I need to check your temp, pal." Oh. Why did Vinny need to…?

His chest rattled as he breathed in and Shirk remembered that he was sick. And still very fucking  _ tired _ . He drooped back against Vinny as they took the thermometer out of his mouth, only for them to curse. "Shit, 102.2 degrees, that's kinda high, buddy." They pet his head and Shirk hummed something. 

He fell back asleep. 

\--

Shirk woke up. He was alone. The room was too bright. He fell back asleep. 

\--

Shirk woke up. Vinny was petting his hair, and he rolled over. He fell back asleep. 

\--

Shirk woke up, the bed beside him empty and cold. His chest felt like it was being crushed, every breath harder than the last. He felt like he was suffocating. His eyes snapped open as he struggled to sit up, kicking off the blanket in a panic as he coughed and coughed and coughed. He couldn't breath. Sweat drenched his skin as he wheezed and choked, and Shirk clawed at his chest as if that would ease some of the pressure that was killing him. 

It didn't help. 

He tried to call for help but he couldn't get any air into his lungs, and it just sent him into another fit. He flinched as something wet splattered into his hands as he hacked up his lungs. He pulled his shaking hands from his mouth and swallowed harshly at the blood that was splattered into his palm. Cold horror soaked him to the bone as he thought  _ am I going to die? _

Vinny entered the room, they must've, because there was a hand rubbing at his back, another hand pulling his hair away from his face. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay, you're just sick. You're getting worked up, which is what's making you cough, so let's try and calm down."

He could barely hear the words over his own coughing, and tears streamed from his eyes and down his cheeks in rivers. He looked at Vinny with absolute terror and showed them the blood that coated his hand. His lungs quaked with the force it took him to not cough, and it was getting harder and harder by the second. Vinny grabbed his wrist and shared Shirk's look, eyes widening. "Fuck, hold on, I'm-I'm gonna call–"

The room spun once before Shirk's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped forward, only stopped as Vinny grabbed his shoulders. "Woah–Hey! Stay with me, Shirk!" His eyelids flickered as he tried to stay awake, eyes unfocused and darting around. 

The next thing he was aware of was being slung into the passenger seat of a car, and a seatbelt clicked. Vinny shut the door and ran around to the driver's side, starting the car—no, truck? Vinny's truck—and peeling from the place it was parked. They were blathering about something Shirk's mind couldn't keep up with, but he kept hearing 'Disaster' and 'help' repeated.

He was then being manhandled into an elevator and sat onto the floor, where the sudden upwards movement caused him to promptly get sick down the front of himself, and then he was crying as Vinny crouched next to him and wiped his face with something. "Shh, we're almost there."

Shirk gave them a helpless look and his shoulders shook as fear once again gripped him. "Sorry," he rasped, voice barely there. "Sorry, sorry, sorry–"

"Shh, save your breath," Vinny told him, pulling his head against their chest and cradling him as he fell apart at the seams. 

\--

It was startling, to say the least, being woken from their dozing by what sounded like Shirk literally hacking up his lungs. And he basically was, the way he spluttered and coughed and choked. And Vinny's heart at froze when the man gave him a look painted in dread, showed him the blood in his hand, and then promptly passed out. 

And then he was groaning and wheezing and muttering the entire way to the FAHC penthouse where Disaster told them to head. It was like he'd sink into sleep and then begin to choke again, and Vinny had never driven faster in their life. 

And now, in the elevator. The machine had barely begun to move before Shirk shuddered and threw up, tears spilling like rain from his eyes as he shook himself apart, giving them an absolutely heartbreaking look as they wiped away the vomit and tears with a handkerchief they kept on them. And they held his head to their chest as he sobbed, clearly terrified out of his mind and having  _ no _ idea what was going on. 

The elevator gave an unfitting, cheerful little  _ ding~ _ as it stopped at the penthouse, and the doors slid open to reveal a shocked Michael and Jeremy, who stared openly at Shirk. "Help me, you fucking useless bastards," Vinny spat, and that spurred them to life. The two rushed forward and helped Vinny scoop Shirk off the floor, who gave a pitiful whine and let his head drop lifelessly. "I presume Disaster told you we were coming."

"Yeah, but we were expecting one of you hurt or something," Jeremy explained, careful to not touch the sick that stained Shirk's shirt. 

Michael had no qualms about it, though. "Yeah,

not, uh, this. She didn't really tell us the fucking Dragon Guy was sick 'n all."

"Just told us to have Caleb on standby."

They slowly made their way through the massive living room, where Ryan suddenly appeared. He paused in the entrance to the hall, saw them struggling to carry Shirk—who was out again—and shouted, "Fuck! They're here!" Over

his shoulder. He then rushed forward and took Shirk from them, bridal style, and sped through the hall. "What the  _ hell _ happened to him?"

"I dunno, I don't–We thought it was a cold or the flu or something but he just got worse!"

"And you just let him! What if he got one of you sick? What if  _ Disaster _ got sick, huh? What if he fucking died," Ryan barked as he laid Shirk onto the bed of the guest room Vinny now found them in. They curled their lip and scoffed. 

"I've been with him the entire time and I'm  _ fine _ ," Vinny told Ryan, who just shook his head. "Disaster's fine too, trust me. You can have Caleb check on her if you're worried. But the hell's your problem, dude? Why do you care?"

Ryan looked frustrated for a second before he stepped back and leant against the wall while they waited for the resident Doc to get there. "I guess I've grown to like the bastard," he admitted with a groan, rubbing his face. "He grows on you like a stubborn cat who doesn't really like you, either. You end up tolerating each other and then you grow to be… fond of the fucker."

Whatever Vinny was going to say was cut off by Caleb bundling in and rushing past them. The Fake's doctor quickly ushered the two them out despite their protests, and the door slammed shut. Vinny frowned and was lead back to the living room. "Are you  _ sure _ Disaster's okay?"

" _ Haywood _ ," Vinny stressed as they entered the main room. Their eyes slid towards the elevator where Jeremy and Michael were cleaning the mess, Gavin looking pale but joking. "She's  _ fine _ . Not a cough, not a sneeze, not a damn  _ sniffle _ . I'm a little more worried about my  _ dying boyfriend _ right now."

Ryan side-eyed them as they sat heavily onto the couch. They pulled out their phone to see a text from Dee saying she and Ace were almost there. "That's probably the most confident I've ever heard you," he murmured, stepping away. 

"Yeah well, fuck you for being unhelpful."

"...I deserved that," Ryan huffed, heading to the kitchen. "Want anything while we wait? Soda? Beer? Something stronger?"

Vinny frowned, folding their hands, but they knew there was nothing they could do until Disaster and Ace got here and until Caleb was finished with Shirk. Vinny rubbed at their eyes, only to be startled by something cold being pressed against their hand. They accept the offered drink—diet coke, gross—and frown down at their phone. 

"Oh! Bye," Gavin giggled loudly, drawing their attention away. The elevator doors closed with Michael and Jeremy still inside, and Gavin rolled his eyes before making his way over. "Guess Dee is here."

It's mere moments before the elevator was back, and Disaster sprinted in with Ace in tow, who instantly charged forward and dove into a hug with Vinny. "He's okay, right?" They asked Vinny as Disaster shouted, "What the  _ hell _ happened?"

"I don't know," Vinny replied to both of them. "He was fine a couple of hours ago–well, as fine as he had been–and then all the sudden he just went downhill."

Ryan made his way over to Disaster who rubbed at her face tiredly, and he placed a hand on her forehead. She batted him away. "I'm not the one who's sick, dad."

"Just wanted to make sure, honey." 

She visibly deflated and wrapped her arms around Ryan desperately. 

"Why is it always you four? You're worse than the Lads– _ hell, _ you're worse than the Dusk Boys. You've been here with someone really sick twice in as many months," Geoff groaned as he entered the room, followed by Jack who looked both worried and amused. Geoff waved his hand. "Feel free to stay, couch-bed is yours, raid the fridge, yadda yadda."

"Glad you're feeling generous today, Geoff," Disaster snipped, before she let her shoulders slump. "Sorry, I'm just…"

"Worried out of your mind. Now  _ you _ know how  _ we _ felt when you came in–" It was Geoff's turn to deflate as Jack put a warning hand on his shoulder. She then turned to the group, and Ryan. 

"I know you're worried, trust me, we are too. But Shirk's basically unkillable—" Geoff muttered something about how they tried—"so I doubt a small illness will make him croak."

"Thank you, Jack."

\--

It was taking Caleb longer than it had taken him when Disaster was sick, though that may be in part that they caught hers early while Shirk got much worse over the course of days. As it was, it crept well into the night when Caleb emerged. "What is it with you four and fucking pnuemonia! Disaster comes in with it, he comes in with it. I swear if either of you two," he pointed to Ace and Vinny in turn, "ends up with it I'm quitting. He's stable, by the way." The doctor made his way to the fridge and grabbed two energy drinks, downing them both in seconds before addressing them again. 

"Had to drain fluid from his lungs, plus the poor fucking bastard cracked a rib from all his coughing. I had to put him under so he doesn't do any further damage. You can go see him, if you'd like. Geoff, I'm heading home, I'll be back in the morning."

Geoff stood to see him out while Vinny, Ace, and Disaster scurried to where Shirk was sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. He didn't wheeze, didn't moan, didn't thrash. His eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks, bags like bruises painted under his eyes. Disaster approached first, smoothing down his hair and pressing a kiss against his forehead. Ace ducked under her arm and nuzzled into Shirk's neck, their arms wrapped around him desperately. Vinny stepped around to his other side and took a limp hand in their own, rubbing scarred knuckles. "Sorry about letting it get this bad, buddy," they whispered remorsefully, and Disaster caught their eye. 

"You're not the sole one to blame," she pointed out, staring at Vinny who stared back. "None of us are without blame."

Vinny elected not to answer, but they knew she was right. Still, they  _ never _ liked seeing any of their significant others hurt or sick like this. They were drawn out of their thoughts by a knock at the door, and they turned to see Ryan and Jack standing there. "We need to talk," Jack said before she turned on her heel and left Ryan who shifted on his feet awkwardly. Not meeting Vinny's eyes he made his way over to Disaster and put a hand on her shoulder. 

"How is he," Ryan asked so quietly Vinny almost missed it. Disaster just shrugged glumly before forcing a cheerful smile onto her face. 

"Wonder what Jackie needs. Let's go and have a chat, hmm?"

\--

He woke up with a gasp, eyes snapping open. The remnants of a scattered dream stuck to his brain like burrs, swirling around disorientingly. He stared at an unfamiliar ceiling for a couple of long moments, trying to work out where he was. His eyes followed the walls around the room, having  _ no _ clue where he was, whether a hospital or not. 

He closed his eyes. Disaster's disemboweled corpse hung in front of him, torso split open from her throat to her navel. Ace's head was a couple of feet from their body–

Shirk opened his eyes again, bile rising in his throat. That was a hell of a fucking dream. Lasted for what felt like years. 

He had a sudden thought of 'am I dead?' and he frowned up at the ceiling. His chest spasmed and he coughed, which sent a sharp pain radiating from his side told him that  _ no _ , he wasn't fucking dead  _ yet _ . That was good, he guessed. Suddenly, he was aware he was alone, no one else in the room. No Disaster, no Ace, no Vinny. No one. His heart leapt into his throat and Shirk swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Too quickly. His side protested as the world spun and he had to shut his eyes and focus on breathing. Shirk stumbled to the door and wrenched it open, entire body wracked with shivers, staring out into an unfamiliar hallway. 

Suddenly sapped of strength he could only stand there in the doorway, one hand white-knuckled on the door jamb and the other clutched at his chest as he wheezed. Someone walked by, and a pair of blue eyes turned to him in shock and dropped the pile of clothes he was holding. A name flashed through his brain–Ryan Haywood–which made Shirk so much more confused and scared. Because if he was  _ here _ then where were the others? "You're not supposed to…" Ryan moved forward reaching for Shirk just as his knees gave out underneath of him and he dropped. "Whoops!" Ryan shouted, stopping Shirk from hitting the floor and helping him stand up again. "I don't think you should be up yet, Shirk."

Shirk shook his head as Ryan led him back to the bed.  _ Where  _ were the others?? Ryan got him settled back into the bed, sitting up, and went to walk away, but Shirk grabbed his wrist before he could rationalize it with a panicked, " _ wait _ !". He let go of Ryan like the contact burned him, but the damage had been done. Ryan paused and looked over his shoulder, face clouded in confusion. His chest constricted and his breaths tore from his chest. "Th-the others–Where are–Are they  _ dead? _ Did I…" 

Understanding filtered across Ryan's face, and he stared at Shirk like he was reading him like a book. Something must've clicked because he crouched next to Shirk and put a hand on his head. "They're out right now, I'm the only one here at the moment. They're all fine. I know you're confused right now but you're still sick. Get some sleep, and they'll be back before you know it." Shirk shook his head and Ryan blinked sadly at him. "I forgot how young you are," he murmured, hand shifting to gently rub at Shirk shoulder as he curled in on himself, arms wrapped protectively over his head. "The nightmares suck, huh?"

Shirk blinked against tears and looked at Ryan, eyebrows knitted. How did he? Ryan laughed, and patted Shirk again. "You're not the only one who suffers through them, trust me."

Shirk looked down and frowned, a small, "oh," being uttered. His thoughts spiraled violently downwards until Ryan stood up and went to leave. Shirk snapped his head up and his eyes widened. He wasn't… he wasn't sure he could be alone right now. He said as much, and Ryan gave him another knowing look. 

"You're hopeless," he smiled. "Give me two minutes, three minutes tops. I promise I'll be back." Shirk nodded, not trusting his voice, and Ryan stepped from the room. The sudden loneliness that threatened to choke him and sent Shirk trembling on the bed was concerning, to say the least. He had to focus on counting, and true to his word, Ryan was back in two minutes and twenty seconds. 

Ryan pressed a couple of pills—"they'll help you sleep"—into Shirk's hand with a glass of water and waited until Shirk reluctantly took them and laid back down. He then settled into the chair in the corner of the room and set a pair of reading glasses onto his nose before he pulled out a book, intending to read. Shirk turned away from him and stared at the wall, planning to stay awake until his datemates got back. His body had other plans as each blink took longer, and he found himself drifting off. He sank into darkness. 

Ryan, on the other hand, read silently for a solid half and hour after Shirk fell asleep, until the thrashing started. He put his book aside and made his way over to the bed to see Shirk's face pinched and sweaty, as he kicked at whatever dream he was having. It reminded the older man so much of himself at that age, so he did what he knew helped him when he himself was having a nightmare. Ryan positioned himself next to Shirk on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him. He then awkwardly brought a hand up to settle onto the top of Shirk's head. 

Despite complaining about Disaster's datemates, Ryan had really come to care for Shirk. The young man was so much like himself at that age—angry, bitter, scared, and broken—that Ryan saw him almost like a son.  _ Almost _ . He was still dating Ryan's daughter, but…

He needed guidance in the world, something he clearly hadn't had. And Ryan was willing to step up to fill that hole, like he had done when he found and adopted Disaster. He just wasn't sure Shirk would allow him to. 

Shirk shifted with a groan and turned over, eyes open but unseeing and dark, mind still trapped in the depths of the dream. Ryan just pet his hair like he would for Disaster when she was sick and told the other it was okay. Shirk settled back down and his breathing evened out. This happened a couple more times, the last of which Shirk woke so violently and sat up so quickly that it scared Ryan that he'd start swinging. Shirk didn't, just pressed his hands against his mouth and  _ ah _ , that's what woke him. Ryan slipped off the bed long enough to snag the waste bin and place it underneath Shirk's head as the man wretched disgustingly and jerked further forward. Ryan sat next to him and rubbed his back, making sure his hair was out of the way as he heaved into the trash. "Let it out, you're okay."

After he finished and drank the offered water, Shirk rubbed at his face as he tried not to cry. It didn't seem to be working in his favor, Ryan noticed, as his shoulders shook with sobs despite his best efforts. Ryan didn't comment on it, just pressed a hand against his forehead. He was still burning up, still sick despite Caleb's help. Ryan frowned and helped him lay back down, and, once Shirk was asleep again, left the room. 

He checked his phone, seeing a text from Disaster from a couple minutes ago that said they were on their way back. Good. He had a conversation he needed to have with some people. He had just pulled a diet coke from the fridge when the elevator opened, and he watched Disaster, Ace, and Vinny hurry down the hallway as Jack—who had escorted and driven them around—made her way over to him. She leant against the counter as he took a long sip of his drink. "Things uneventful?" She asked, misinterpreting the look Ryan gave her. 

He gave a withering sigh and shook his head. "It was  _ very _ eventful, actually," he corrected, watching Jack's face morph into confusion. He took another long swig of the coke.

"Oh? What happened, pray tell?"

He placed the can down and rubbed his face, sagging back against the counter as well. "He's… did–well," He glanced towards the hallway, and lowered his voice so no one would overhear him. "Did you know he suffers from Nightmares?"

"That's normal in our line of business, but I'm guessing you mean…"

"I was doing my laundry, you know, like Michael's been asking me to do all week, and as I passed his room he was awake, which is strange all on its own because Caleb said he should sleep for a day or so. I took him back to bed because he looked lost and… scared, I guess." Jack moved and was standing next to him now, her hand overlapping his own. "And…" Ryan told her what happened, her listening quietly but frowning introspectively all the while. "He's so much like  _ I _ was, all those years ago."

"Now that you mention it," Jack added, "I see what you mean. Both of you were, and, well,  _ are _ , this big, scary, mysterious, angry guy who wears a mask. But we helped you, and he has Disaster and Vinny and Ace to help him, too."

"You're right. I don't know why I care so much about him."

"Well, he's dating your daughter. And he's a decent guy, underneath his tough exterior, who's helped us with some heists. He's grown on Geoff and I, too. Plus, Gavin loves pestering him just as much as he likes pestering  _ you _ with those questions. Remember the time we had to pry Shirk off Gavin after the coin question?"

Ryan snorted a laugh. "Gavin almost got castrated, I swear." Ryan finished his drink and stepped away from the counter. "I better go talk with Disaster."

"You do that."

Jack just gave him a dazzling smile, and he leaned in to kiss her before reluctantly walking away, not really wanting to talk to his daughter about what he needed to. He silently made his way up to the room and knocked on the door, drawing Disaster's attention. "Can I speak with you?" he asked, and she stood, following him out into the living room, Jack gone. 

"What's up?"

He gestured for her to sit at the table, but she refused to, just giving him a suspicious glance. "Look," he began, unsure of how to breach the topic. "I assume you know about the nightmares?" Her face became more confused, and she nodded hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm well aware of them. Why, what happened?"

He told her what he told Jack, and her face fell when he mentioned Shirk had thought something had happened to the three of them when he couldn't find them. "I think he thought  _ he _ did something?"

She looked up skyward and sighed with a sad smile. "Yeah, sounds about correct. He…" She stopped for a moment, as if unsure she should share, before she barreled on. "His past wasn't great, as I assume you know. He's really worried about hurting us, all the time, so he'd rather suffer alone than possibly causing us pain, which is really fucking  _ annoying _ because if he's unwilling to talk about his problems, how can we help him?" She huffed and crossed her arms, lowering her voice into something more morose. "I just want to help him."

Ryan placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're doing wonderfully, sweetie. All you can do is be there for him, and show him you care. Trust me, it took me  _ years _ to be where I am, so give him time. He loves you, but he needs to get over his own trust issues before he feels safe enough to allow himself to be weak."

Disaster nodded glumly, and Ryan wheeled her into a hug. "You'll get through this," he told her into her hair, squeezing tighter as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp before he finally let go. She smoothed her clothes and gave him an honest smile, and he steered her towards the hall. "Go."

"Thank you, dad."

"You're welcome, Disaster."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RYAN THE DAD GUY HAYWOOD!!!


	3. Part Three

The hallway was dark as Vinny stumbled from the bathroom. It was the middle of the fucking night, they guessed, and everyone was asleep—well, just about everyone. They were awake for starters, though barely, and they swore they saw Ryan pass by earlier. Having to take a leak in the middle of the night sucked. The temperature had dropped as the sun set, leaving a chill over the building. Vinny was glad they went to bed in long pants and a jacket—though one learns to do so when they sleep with Ace, the ultimate blanket hog—as Geoff kept the apartment fucking  _ cold _ , even when the temperature dropped. 

Vinny wasn't going to mess with the thermostat, though, as they'd like to keep their remaining fingers, thank you very much. As they passed the room Shirk was in, Vinny noticed the door ajar. At first, they thought someone had simply checked on him and forgot to close it, but when they looked in, the bed was unkempt and empty. This sent their stomach knotting, and they frowned as they pushed the door further open. Backing up a couple of steps, they were about to go wake Disaster when a hand descended on their shoulder. 

Vinny had to stifle a shriek as they whirled on their heel, hand clutching their chest where their heart struggled to break free. "Christ shitting a fucking  _ log _ , don't  _ do _ that," they hissed, taking a deep breath as Ryan just gave them an amused look. 

"Jumpy bastard," the older man smirked, so Vinny just glared at him. "He's on the roof, if that's what you're wondering." Ryan jerked his head towards the end of the hall where a set of stairs spiraled up to the roof-access, before wandering away. "Been there a while, maybe check on him?"

Vinny blinked down the hall, worry filtering through their brain. With hurried steps they made their way to the steps and upwards, shivering as the temperature dropped further. They pulled their coat further around their shoulders as they shoved the door open. It creaked ominously as they stepped out and then slammed shut with a  _ bang _ that caused Vinny to jump. Muttering under their breath, they glanced around the roof, seeing a dark shape huddled nearby as their eyes adjusted. 

Vinny stepped up to him and sat down at Shirk's side, who barely glanced at them before shifting slightly. Vinny placed a hand on his arm, and recoiled as their fingers met ice-cold skin. "You're freezing, pal!" It was then when they noticed Shirk only had a tank-top and a loose pair of pj bottoms on, and, despite the cold, wasn't shivering in the slightest. Shirk just shrugged and pressed his cheek into his knees. "We should go ins–"

"Do you remember," Shirk started so quietly Vinny almost kept talking over him, "what we were talking about yesterday? About you being worried about the heist?"

"That was over a week ago," Vinny pointed out, which, perhaps, wasn't the best thing to do as Shirk jerked up and his face morphed into confusion. 

"I–what?"

"Shirk, you've been sick for over a week, don't you remember?"

Shirk's expression shifted to horror, eyes widening and eyebrows knitting together low over his eyes. He stiffened before he closed his eyes, rubbing at his face. "Ah," he simply groaned, resting his head in his hands. "Right."

"Do you… not remember?" Shirk shook his head, and then seemed to shut down because everything further that Vinny tried to say fell on deaf ears. They sat there and worried at their jacket as they tried to get him to head inside because their ass was freezing to the ground, until Shirk spoke again. 

"Can you tell me," and his voice was muffled into his hands, shaking and wrought, "did I hurt any of you?"

Vinny shook their head, realized Shirk wasn't looking, then said, "I can promise on my life you haven't hurt  _ anyone _ ."

Shirk hummed and his hands shifted so they were clasped in front of his eyes instead. "Right," he repeated. "Right. Then why does it feel so real?"

Vinny tilted their head in confusion. "What? What feels real?" When Shirk didn't answer, they placed a hand on his shoulder and prompted him again. "Shirk?"

"The fucking  _ nightmares _ , Vinny," Shirk spat vehemently, dropping his hands, jerking away from them and leveling them with a look that made them pause. Such disgust and anger filled his eyes that flashed in the moonlight that Vinny almost flinched. But a sudden thought settled heavily in their stomach. It wasn't directed at  _ them _ . This was made all the clearer as Shirk began to speak again. "Why do I dream, over and over and over again, of killing you all in increasingly horrible ways? Why can I feel the blood under my nails, smell death all around me,  _ see _ your faces? Why am I like this?" And then he laughed bitterly, broken-heartedly, and Vinny grabbed his hand. Shirk stared down at their interwoven fingers and his expression shattered, his other hand clutching at his face as tears dribbled from his eyes. "Why do I have dreams of hurting you? I don't  _ want _ to hurt you. Do I not love you enough?"

"I can say with earnest that you  _ do _ love us, very much. Otherwise you wouldn't be worryin' about this, would you? It's just your fever causin' this. Trust me, fever dreams are fucking ugly. You would never hurt us."

"Except I have," Shirk rasped. "I've hurt all of you, over and over–"

Vinny sighed and grabbed Shirk's head, pulling him closer so they could touch foreheads. "When will you get it through your thick skull that  _ you _ hurtin' isn't hurting  _ us _ , you lug." They feel him violently shiver once, twice, and then it seems he can't stop, the cold finally catching up with him. His teeth chattered loudly, his body shook so hard Vinny could imagine his bones rattling around in his skin. Vinny laughed. "Cold?" Shirk was quiet, mulling over something as Vinny staggered to their feet. "I can't feel my fucking asscheeks, c'mon, lets head inside."

Shirk still didn't say anything as Vinny heaved him to his feet, lead him to the door, and down the stairs. "I think a boiling hot shower is in order, what about you," they asked him as they hit the main floor, and Shirk paused, then nodded. He allowed himself to be pulled into the bathroom, where Vinny remembered something. "Oh, yeah. We brought clothes. Mind me grabbin' them?"

Shirk nodded again and stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom as Vinny scurried off, fished through the bag of clothes they brought, and grabbed the first things their hand landed on that were theirs and Shirk's. Vinny hurried back and found Shirk staring at his hands, still wracked with shivers, and sitting on the ground where he had been standing, like his legs had given out. Vinny smiled sadly and tossed the clothes into the sink before helping Shirk up. They went to pull his shirt off but he grabbed the hem and held fast, looking away. "Shirk?"

"I-I don't want–Can I just–" his fists tightened further, twisting the shirt, and he ducked his head. 

"You can't wear your clothes in the shower, buddy. Kinda defeats the purpose." Shirk frowned further and Vinny had an idea. "You want to turn the light off?" He blinked at them, unaware that was even an  _ option _ , and Vinny flicked the switch off. They were enveloped in darkness, and Vinny cranked the shower on as hot as they could handle while Shirk shrugged out of his clothes. 

The one thing the Fakes were good for were having giant fucking showers, thank Christ. There was room for the both of them and space to spare. Shirk sat on the floor of the tub as Vinny washed his hair, pressed back into the touch like a puppy. As the steaming water hit his skin, the biting cold faded and was replaced with warmth, much to Vinny's relief. Vinny couldn't help but laugh as Shirk's eyes slid shut of his own accord, pleased hums and sighs being whispered from his lips every so often. 

Even in the dark, it was evident on how being sick took its toll on Shirk. He was thinner than usual, some of his muscle-mass wasted away from disuse, collar-bones sharp and cheeks hollow. Nothing too drastic, nothing that wouldn't be filled out by some better eating and exercise once he got better. 

Vinny had to nudge Shirk to rouse him from his dozing to get him out of the tub, and he tiredly threw on the offered clothes once they got out. "Sit down for a moment, I'm gonna dry your hair." He complied, taking a seat on the closed toilet and letting his arms hang limply between his legs as he leaned forward. Vinny took care to make sure his hair was as dry as it was going to get before grabbing his hands and pulling him up, out of the bathroom, and into the guest room. It was Shirk's turn to pull  _ them _ as he stumbled to the bed and clambered in, and Vinny followed suit.

The bed was smaller than any of theirs and it was a tight fit, and it ended up with them laughing a touch hysterically as one or both of them almost slipped off the mattress a couple of times. They finally get situated with Shirk sitting up against the backboard and Vinny against his chest almost laying down—"are you sure this is okay?" " _ Yes, _ Vinny, I'm sure I'm fine. Shut up."—while Shirk ran his fingers through their blonde locks.

"How're ya feeling?" Vinny asked as Shirk pushed their hair into their face in methodical movements. It took a long moment for him to reply, during which Vinny would've thought him asleep if not for him playing with their hair.

"Mmnn," is all he grunted, and Vinny huffed out a small laugh.

"Is that better or worse than before, buddy?"

Shirk actually paused at that, hands stilling against their head. Vinny tilted their head up to look at him, a thoughtful look plastered on his face. Shirk eventually shrugged, and went back to twisting their hair into little braids. "Better, I think," he rumbled truthfully. "Not, y'know,  _ good _ , but better."

"Well, that's better than nothing, right?" Again, a long pause between Vinny's question and Shirk's answer. Vinny allowed him the time to gather his thoughts, and instead focused on his hand in their hair. As the silence stretched on, Vinny thought he wasn't going to answer, so they prepared to drop the subject, drawing in a breath to say something else only for Shirk to finally speak again.

"Yeah, I guess."

They once again lapsed into silence, Vinny finding it hard to keep their eyes open and Shirk's movements slowing down steadily. Just as Vinny nodded off, Shirk said something they didn't catch, his voice quiet. Vinny just hummed and fell asleep.

They were awoken a couple hours later by Shirk gripping their shoulder, using his thigh as a pillow. His grip wasn't quite hard enough to hurt, but it was tight enough to be uncomfortable. They shifted and looked up at their boyfriend, who was slumped over to the side, his head bent at an awkward angle. His face was pinched and worried, every breath a strained wheeze, and he made a small noise every so often. Vinny turned over and slipped from his grip to shake him awake, smiling tiredly as Shirk's green eyes slowly slipped open and met theirs. "I think you should lay down."

Shirk didn't speak, but nodded slightly, and once again it was a struggle to both fit on the bed. Vinny ended up underneath Shirk who slung himself across their chest and pressed his face into their neck. He was out moments later, and Vinny wrapped their arms around his back. He was still burning with fever, but there wasn't much that could be done aside from his body fighting the illness.

Vinny fell back asleep as well, their legs tangled with Shirk's. The two ended up sleeping until mid-afternoon.

\--

His fever broke the next evening

\--

"I'm fucking tired of soup," Shirk grumbled, holding the offending bowl in one hand. "I want real food." He was propped up in his bed, where he'd been since he left the Fake's penthouse, much to his chagrin. He really hated being sick, hated feeling so prone and lazy.

"Well last time you said that you ended up throwing it back up," Disaster quipped from beside him. 

He glared at her weakly, mocking her under his breath before huffing. "That was last week."

"That was Friday."

"And it's Monday. Ergo, last week."

"That was  _ three  _ days ago, you whiney bastard. Shut up and eat your soup."

He groaned and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth with exaggerated movements, then mumbled around the spoon, "Can't even be something other than Campbell's Chicken Noodle. This is homophobic."

Disaster sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "What else do you expect, your Highness?"

"Homemade."

She rolled her eyes. "Pray tell, when am I supposed to have time to make it?"

"I could fucking make it if you guys would quick breathin' down my fucking neck," he told her pointedly. 

"You're still sick."

"I'm  _ fine _ . Look, I'm not even c–" Despite his words he was cut off as he coughed into his elbow. Disaster raised her eyebrows and he glowered as he caught his breath. "Shaddup."

"I didn't say anything."

"I can feel the smug look you're wearing."

She just smiled wider and patted his head. His frown deepened. "I'm right, though. You're still sick." Her hand moved and pressed against his forehead briefly, before she took the now empty bowl from his hands. "You're feeling a bit feverish again. I think you should sleep some more."

"'M tired of sleeping."

"Again, you're still sick," she pointed out. Shirk stuck his tongue out at her and she rapped him on the head with her knuckles lightly. "Stop being a brat."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, I will. You'll have to nap alone." Shirk looked away and mouthed something under his breath, before flopping over onto his side and crossing his arms, pointedly ignoring Disaster. She scoffed, "you're such a  _ child _ , Shirk," and left the room. 

Despite his protests, when she checked in on him a couple minutes later, he was out like a light. 

\--

"And you're  _ sure _ you feel fine?"

Shirk rolled his eyes as he walked, leveling Vinny with a side-eyed glance. "I'm  _ fine _ . Other than a tiny cough I'm good." 

"But are you absolutely certain that–"

"Vinny, would I be doing this if I didn't feel my best?"

"Yes."

Shirk raised a finger, mouth opened to argue before he paused, thought for a moment, and deflated, shoving his hand into his pocket as he realized  _ yeah, Vinny's right _ . He still snorted and shook his head. "I promise on my life–"

"Please don't do that–"

"–That I feel fine enough to do the heist tomorrow."

It was late afternoon as the two wandered the city while Disaster wined and dined Ace. They had ended up at the beach, and Shirk had his shoes tucked under his one arm as he walked in the breaking waves. Vinny stood a couple feet away, avoiding the water like the plague because, in their words, "it's cold as tits, dude."

Vinny gave him a disbelieving look and Shirk kicked water and wet sand at them, snickering as they scurried up the beach a couple of paces before they scowled at him. "Don't kick water at me, bastard."

"A little water never hurt anyone."

"It's  _ cold _ !"

"It's not  _ that _ cold, you're just a fucking baby."

Vinny flipped him off and fell into step beside him again. Shirk took their hand in his own—to their amazement, because he seldom initiated PDA like that—and squeezed it gently. "Look," he told them, growing serious. "I'm fine. I won't tell you to not worry because I know it's fruitless," they both laughed slightly, "but I am telling you I can do this."

Vinny squeezed back. "I know. I'm still going to worry enough to kill me." Shirk smiled slightly at them, his smile turning into a full grin at they pointed to something ahead of them. "That hell's  _ that _ ?"

They approached it, and Shirk recognized a Moon Jelly. "Oh, a Jellyfish," he mused as he poked it with his toe. 

"Wh-h-Don't  _ touch it _ ! What if it stings you?"

"A, I think it's dead. B, this species is harmless." He proceeded to pick it up while Vinny yelled and frisbee'd it back into the water. Vinny refused to hold his hand until he rinsed it in the water and wiped it off on his pants, and then complained loudly about it for a couple of minutes. 

A seagull then shat on their arm and Vinny  _ screamed _ , and Shirk had to double over and hold his stomach as he laughed so hard he almost passed out. His laughter spluttered into a coughing fit, interposed with hysterical giggles, and Shirk stumbled away from the water as Vinny shrieked at the temperature while they washed their arm off. He sat down heavily in the sand and wiped away tears that streamed down his face, heaving in huge breaths and trying to stop laughing. 

Vinny tripped on their way back and almost fell into the water and Shirk collapsed into another fit of cackles, face as red as his hair. He heard them step up beside him, and Shirk froze as something wet and grainy plopped and was smeared into his hair. His eye twitched and he looked at Vinny who grinned down at him. 

"Did you just…?"

Vinny's shit-eating grin grew larger. 

"Did you just put wet sand into my hair?"

"Noooo."

Vinny took off as Shirk scrambled to his feet, giving chase. Sand flew from both of their feet as Shirk chased them down the beach. He threw his shoes to the side and grabbed them by the waist and hoisted them into the air as they wheezed and laughed and tried to worm free. He took a step towards the water. "Wait–no–Please!"

"Phone."

"Shirk, no!! Don't!!"

"Phone, or it's getting ruined."

Vinny tossed their phone onto the sand near Shirk's shoes, along with their wallet and keys, and Shirk barely gave them time to prepare themself before he heaved them over his shoulder, threw his own phone and wallet onto the sand, and wadded into the surf. Once he was deep enough he dropped Vinny into the water who spluttered and shoved him away. 

"Fuck you," they spat, splashing him only for a wave to break over their heads. "Shit!" They grabbed his hand as the two of them ducked under the wave, and Shirk came up laughing again while Vinny scowled. He pulled them out a little further, where the waves weren't breaking but where they could still stand if they wanted. The water  _ was _ cold, and dragging down at Shirk's clothing—He only had on a T-Shirt and jeans because while being early Spring, it was still rather hot out—but he found he couldn't mind because Vinny's frown broke and they started laughing too. 

He ducked under the water and scrubbed the sand out of his hair, only to surface and get a faceful of water as Vinny shoved water at him. He swung his arm and splashed back, and the two ended up in an all our water-war. Vinny ended up winning when they grabbed another fist full of sand and once again smeared it into his hair. "Fuckin', Come on!" He washed the  _ new _ sand out of his hair, dunked Vinny under the water for good measure, and then huffed. "Stop with the sand, that's cheap."

"Throwin' me into the ocean's cheap."

"You started it."

The two headed back to shore, Shirk eating shit and rolling for a couple of feet under the water in a mirror of Vinny earlier as a wave hit him wrong in the back of the knees. And he had to go  _ back _ out because he got  _ more _ fucking sand in his  _ fucking  _ hair. When he finally stomped back onto the beach a couple minutes after Vinny, he was shivering. "You good?" Vinny called from the pile of stuff. 

"Yeah," he answered, teeth chattering. "Fuckin' cold, though."

" _ Now _ w-who's complaining?" They were rubbing their hands together and stepping in place as Shirk stumbled up beside them, and he curled his lips at them in a mock scowl. 

"Wanna head back?" Shirk asked as he gathered up his shit, shoving his phone and wallet into his shoe and carrying them in one heel. Vinny agreed and gathered their things before something dawned to Shirk. "Hey, where are your shoes?"

"Shit!"

\--

The two stumbled into the apartment freezing cold and laughing at something, damp and sticky with saltwater. "You can take a shower first," Shirk told Vinny, who nodded and scurried off to the bathroom. When they emerged and changed—thank fucking Christ they were smart enough to leave a pair of clothes here—Shirk wasn't in the bedroom. They were almost worried but before they could even begin to freak out they stepped into the living room and found him passed out on the couch. In a rather strange position. 

His legs were kicked over the back of the sofa and his upper body hung off seat, his right arm thrown across the arm of the couch and his left shoulder pressed into the floor. It really looked like it hurt. Hell, it was making Vinny ache just looking at him. 

Shirk falling asleep so easily was a testament against feeling his best, but Vinny knew there was nothing they could do to change his mind about tomorrow. They kicked his shoulder lightly and sent him to go get a shower, watching him stretch as he stumbled to the bathroom. 

Vinny turned on the TV and watched some dumb movie that was on. Shirk took a while in the shower, so when he finally emerged Vinny called over their shoulder, "you drown or something?"

"Or something," Shirk agreed as he sat down heavily next to them, hair still dripping. He had a pair of sweatpants on and a towel around his neck, and nothing else. 

Vinny raised their eyebrows and smiled. "Feeling good, are we?"

Shirk gave them a puzzled look. "Didn't we already have this discussion?"

Vinny shook their head with a laugh. "No, not that. You must be very happy. You only dress like that when you're comfortable."

Shirk blinked, then flushed crimson as he realized. "Yeah, well," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Shaddup."

"You're not even gonna dry your hair?"

"I said shut–What?" 

"You're useless." Vinny huffed a laugh and stole the towel from around his neck, unfolding it and scrubbing Shirk's head dry. When they pulled the towel away, his face was an even brighter shade of red, rivaling his hair in intensity. Shirk pointedly looked away, scowling, and Vinny just smiled cheekily at him.

"Hungry?" Shirk asked, changing the subject before Vinny teased him further. "I'm fucking starving."

"Now that you mention it, yeah. What were you thinking?"

"Chinese, the place down the block delivers."

"Dee'll be jealous."

Shirk snorted. "Yeah well, Dee's at a fancy-shmancy fucking restaurant with her datemate, isn't she?"

"Touchè."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the beach part is my favorite thing i've ever fucking written? give me a 100K word fic of these four just fucking around while on vacation,  
at the beach, in the woods, sight-seeing, i don't care but it would make for such a funny movie, lets be honest. a true comedy.


End file.
